


Rizzo Chronicles

by raewise



Series: the way you sing off key [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: And Nick, Aromantic Character, Asexual Character, Canon Bisexual Character, F/F, F/M, Genderfluid Character, M/M, Misophonia, Multi, Non-Sexual Bondage, One Shot Collection, Platonic Life Partners, Polyamory, Rizzo is dating every romance option
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-13 08:44:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5702230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raewise/pseuds/raewise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection focusing on sole survivor Rizzo West and all the loves she makes across the Commonwealth.<br/>Check the notes before chapters to see the warnings and ships.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. MacCready the Sidekick (Mac/Rizzo)

**Author's Note:**

> MacCready joins Rizzo on one of her late-night Silver Shroud patrols for the first time. MacCready/Rizzo, mentions of Hancock/Rizzo
> 
> Warnings: Violence, misogynistic slur, Mac's filthy inner monologue.

MacCready had never been with Rizzo when she went on her “Silver Shroud patrols” before. Sure, he’d met Kent, and sure he liked the guy well enough, but this was the kind of thing Rizzo did with Hancock or Piper or Nick, not him. So when the three were unable to join her, she took the only person who didn’t have plans on a Saturday night (which wasn’t really fair since for the past couple months  _ she’d  _ been his Saturday night plans). 

So there he was, leaning against the brick wall of the alleyway trying to get his  _ damn lighter to work _ as she interrogated one of the chem dealers of Goodneighbor. She pressed the muzzle of that flashy silver gun into the man’s gut, screwing her voice up in a way that wasn’t quite as intimidating as she might’ve thought. MacCready tried not to grin around the cigarette he finally managed to light.

Finally, the interrogation seemed to come to an end and she pushed the shithead against the wall, turning on her heel to walk away all dramatically, coat billowing behind her. MacCready followed behind, blowing smoke in the dealer’s general direction, and didn’t notice when the guy picked up his baseball bat. 

Mac must’ve gone down first, since the last thing he saw was the silhouette of the Shroud’s massive jacket and fedora. He wakes up after her though, meeting her eyes from across a foot of dirty warehouse floor. He sees ropes tying her arms behind her back, legs strapped down to chair legs with leather belts. They’re not surrounded by as many goons as there should’ve been for this whole superhero-supervillain interrogation scenario to work, but there’s enough for MacCready to know they aren’t getting out of this one without a little sweet talking. 

It takes a moment for Mac to realize that while Rizzo’s gagged with her own black bandana, his own mouth is empty and free. Fuck, he was not the charmer of the duo. 

He looked at the chem dealer from the alley, having to crane his neck to do so. 

“What the f--what do you  _ want _ ?”

“We’ll give you fifty caps to walk away, MacCready, we don’t got no business with you.” Mac guessed they didn’t want too much trouble with Hancock. Either way they were going to get hell--not that they knew the Silver Shroud was dating the mayor. “We just wanna teach the Silver Shroud here a lesson about deals a bitch like her shouldn’t get involved with.” He picked up a metal swatter, striking his palm.

Now, you could pay MacCready to do a lot of fucked up shit: killing, stealing, lying, carrying your immense pile of garbage across the Commonwealth like a pack brahmin. But this was not one of those things. But he really couldn’t see another way of getting out of his confines.

So he grinned at the douchebag and said, “Make it eighty and we got a deal.”

Rizzo was watching him. He winked at his girlfriend, hoping she understood what he was doing. 

“Alright, alright, Mac.” One of the goons began work on untying him, and soon enough he was standing on his own two feet. 

“My rifle and caps please.” He held out a hand, and smiled widely when his gun was slid into his palm, followed by a sack of caps. The chem dealer held out a hand for him to shake, but MacCready surprised everyone in the room when instead he forced the butt of his rifle into the guy’s nose, a sickening crunch echoing in the barren room. He turned to the other three thugs, shooting them each in the head in fast succession. When their brains were coating the walls he shoved his knee into the leader’s stomach, forcing him down. He took one of the belts that was strapping his legs to the chair and wrapped it twice around the man’s wrists--tightly as he could. The only reason he didn’t kill the man himself was because of the bitch comment; Rizzo hated nothing more than being called a bitch.

When the man was face-down on the dirty floor MacCready took out a hunting knife from one of his satchels and cut the ropes off of Riz, letting her take off her gag as he began working at her legs. She smiled softly at him, at the blood that’d sprayed on his shirt. She took her eyeglasses out from the case, thankfully not broken, and slid them onto her nose, flexing her fingers and ankles when they were freed. 

She smiled at him, her eyes crinkling like they did. “Nice job, hero,” she said softly. “I thought you would take the money.” He barked out a laugh, surprising her.

“You’re gonna hate me for pointing it out, but I technically did.” She opened her mouth to snark right back at him and he interrupted her before she could start. “But why the heck would I give up the best thing that’s ever happened to me?”

He could see a faint blush on her brown cheeks, and he grinned toothily at her. 

“Let’s get to work, knockout, I’m sure you and Hancock both want a turn at your new punching bag.” He pointed towards the chem dealer, who was wiggling pathetically in the dirt to get free. Riz laughed, then winced, touching the back of her head, and he noticed for the first time his own aching skull. 

“We may need to take a raincheck on that. We should probably see a doctor first.”

“That’s probably a much better idea.”


	2. "Hospital" Visit (Hancock/Rizzo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of chapter one from Hancock's perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hancock/MacCready/Rizzo  
> Warnings: Implied torture, description of gory injuries, MacCready's teeth

Hancock was riding the last wave of a hit of mentats when a courier came in, all breathless and flustered. Fahrenheit stopped him at the door but Hancock waved him in as the kid stuttered on his words. “What’s the word, kid?”

The courier choked on his breath, and Hancock patiently waited for the boy to spit it out.

“Ms. Rizzo was kidnapped, her and MacCready. They killed everyone but they were both hurt pretty bad. The ringleader, Little Glen, is tied up in the warehouse. They’ve gone to see the doc, but she’s requested you send someone to pick the bad news up.”

Hancock felt anger coil in his stomach, waves coming and going as he clenched his fist. He looked sharply at Fahrenheit who’d been listening in intently. “Pick the dumb bastard up, bring him to the basement and tie him up by his toes for all I care.” He got up, a little drowsy from the drugs. “I’m gonna go see her and Mac.”

She nodded. As she left she told him, “I’ll rough him up a bit for you, Johnny.”

He walked across the street to the Memory Den, his steps solid and authoritative. Well, he hoped they were--it was always a bit hard to tell when he was high. Inside the Den Kent was sitting with Irma, looking anxious as she pet his shoulder.

“Hey, Kent. Where are they?”

“Oh! Hancock!  The Shroud’s downstairs with MacCready. He’s getting fixed up first--his head was all split open like a grape and Doc Amari’s worried his brain’s gonna come dripping out.” Hancock didn’t really know what a grape was, but he nodded anyway, his hands coiling into taut fists at his sides. He shoved them into his pockets. 

He didn’t say goodbye to the pair as he stomped down the stairs to the basement. He knocked once by kicking the door before letting himself in. Doc Amari’s back was facing him, and she was doing something to the side of Rizzo’s head. He saw Rizzo stick a stimpack in her arm, but couldn’t see her face. MacCready was on the other side of the room, sitting up and keeping watch. 

MacCready’s head was wrapped in bandages, his coat covered in sprayed blood. Hancock made his way over to the merc. He tried not to laugh at the way his brown hair stuck out from the bandages. Hancock put his hand on the younger man’s shoulder, meeting his blue eyes with his black.

“You okay, Mac?” Hancock sat down next to the merc on the couch, examining the back of his head, resisting the urge to touch it. 

“I really messed myself up. I was all hopped up on adrenaline I didn’t notice that I ripped my scalp open. Riz had to practically carry me all the way here.” Hancock pretended he didn’t notice the embarrassed blush. “I have three stitches, and Doc Amari says I can’t drink for  _ two weeks _ and I need to stay in Goodneighbor until she gives the go-ahead--”

“Well, you’re always welcome to stay in the Old State House. It’d be nice having another body keep the bed warm.”

MacCready paused. “Really?” The space between his eyebrows wrinkled. “Do you mean that in a ‘just doing a bit with my pal’ way or a ‘I’d genuinely like to hold this bi guy’s hand and maybe cuddle and make out if the opportunity presents itself’ kinda way?”

“The latter. But you’ll have to brush your teeth before I’m going anywhere near that grody mouth of yours, ya kook.”

MacCready scowled good-naturedly, brushing Hancock’s shoulder with his own. “I lived in a cave! For a good fraction of my life! And you’re one to talk about rotting. Your toe fell off last week.” 

Hancock smiled at him.

Rizzo stood up, hand brushing against the hair on the back of her head. She turned and looked pleased to see Hancock. “Thought I heard your voice, sweetness.”

“Mayor Hancock,” the doc said, “I’m sure you can escort my patients back to your home. Ms. West has a minor concussion, so you should wake her every two hours and use one or two stimpacks depending on the level of pain or nausea she’s experiencing. Mr. MacCready is  _ not  _ allowed to have any drugs or alcohol.”

“Aww…”

“No problem, Doctor. Thank you for taking care of them.”

Doc Amari nodded, turning to her terminal to get back to her work.

“Let’s get upstairs before Kent explodes from anxiety,” said Hancock in a low voice, reaching over to take Rizzo’s hand. She leaned down to kiss him on his mouth. MacCready crowded his other side. Sandwiched between the two giants, Hancock felt something warm bubble up in his chest. “Let’s get this freakshow on the road.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading.  
> Rizzo is 6'1" and I headcanon Mac at 6' and built like a beanstalk. Hancock is 5'7" in this series, and slim, so he feels very small compared to the two of them.  
> I hope you have a nice rest of your day!
> 
> [Buy me a coffee!](http://ko-fi.com/I3I59IAV)


	3. Ace Detective (Nick/Rizzo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of Nick Valentine is good for the soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: plot spoilers for Nick's personal quests, kinda-sorta existentialism  
> Nick/Rizzo, feat. ace Nick

The thin line between ‘I’ and ‘he’ was becoming more distinct in Nick’s eyes. Winter’s death hadn’t been the closure he thought he needed, but it was a spark in the beginning of making the name his own. Rizzo helped, with her reassurances and crinkly eyes. They stood there where Nick’s not-fiancée was murdered and she took his hand in hers, letting the rain pitter patter at their feet. 

She pulled him home, and he felt something warm up in him on the walk, like sparks of lightning running up his legs, coiling in his gut. She pulled her camo bandana down to her neck, and he watched the way her purple lips sculpted around words. He noticed her freckles, something he had never really paid attention to before, almost hidden against her brown skin.

Rizzo noticed him staring, smiled, and threaded their fingers together. He wanted to reach up and wipe away the smudge the rain had left with her winged eyeliner, but he just stuck his hand into his jacket pocket, feeling at the pack of cigarettes and gold-plated lighter she'd given him as a gift. 

Nick didn’t feel sexual attraction--he never had. When he was human… when his personality was in a human body…  _ the original Nick _ didn’t feel it either, but he knew what love felt like. He’d felt it for Jenny; he still did. And it was so familiar in the way he found himself watching Rizzo’s hands when she talked, when he saw the way her nose looked in profile, the way her sticky fingers shoved themselves into her pockets when he was in her company. 

He pulled his hand away when they reached Diamond City. He felt her watching him, and he hated treating her this way, acting so temperamental. It felt weird knowing someone had seen every part of him. Even Ellie didn’t know the full weight Winter and Jenny and old Nick pushed down on his rickety shoulders. But Rizzo… Rizzo had stronger shoulders than he did, and she gladly took some of that weight. With a damn smile, even, the saint. 

“Are you gonna be okay, Nicky?”

Nick liked the way that sounded coming from her mouth, a common enough nickname.  _ “Come home in one piece, okay, Nicky-baby?”  _ Jenny used to say, planting a solid kiss on old Nick. The angel never expected more from him than a kiss. 

He met Rizzo’s warm brown gaze, and smiled genuinely. He wrung out his hat as they stood there in the doorway to the agency. She leaned her hip against the door, her ushanka hat plastered onto her head. 

“Riz, you’re a good type, y’know that?” he said, trying not to overstep any boundaries. 

“I try, darling, I sure try.” She had a laugh on her breath, sweeter than candy.

“Bless you for that, doll.” He watched her face to make sure she wasn’t offended by the pet name. He saw her eyes widen a tad and her face flush, but she didn’t look put off. “Thank you again. Really. You’ve done more for me than anybody else in my life--and that means a lot coming from me seeing as I’ve lived two of them. Plus some.” Her hand touched his wrist, and he let her fingers curl around it. “You’ve been a good friend to me and I--”

“Wait, stop.”

He paused with his mouth still open.

Rizzo hesitated, before continuing on, face all red. “I’d like to be more than friends with you, Nick.” She pulled his hand up so it was over her clavicle. He could feel her heartbeat against his fake skin. “If you… are interested in that sort of thing.”

Nick blinked at her for a moment. He hadn’t expected that any feelings like that would be returned. “There are a lot of things I can’t give you. I’m not interested in… in a sexual relationship.”

She looked relieved and kissed his fingertips one by one, leaving lipstick prints. “Is this okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said, feeling something constrict his vocal chords. If he could he’d be giving her a watery smile. Instead he put his right hand behind her head and pulled her down the couple inches that separated them and gave her a kiss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Buy me a coffee!](http://ko-fi.com/I3I59IAV)


	4. A Soft Moment With Cait (Cait/Rizzo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plus some Rizzo backstory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some fluffy cuddling. Cait/Rizzo, implied Hancock/Cait  
> Warnings: Mention of drug relapse

“What kind of name is Rizzo, anyway?” Cait asked once in the middle of the cold night. Riz and her were pressed together from shoulder to toe, not only for cuddling purposes, but also to stay warm. Rizzo’s fingers were tracing chilly circles above the pulsepoint in her throat.

“What kind of name is Cait?”

Cait scoffed. “Caitlyn. But don’t you start calling me that now. Answer my question.”

“It’s a nickname. My real name is Elizabeth, but Nate called me Rizzo once back in high school and it stuck, I guess? I haven’t used Elizabeth on anything other than official documents since… pre-war? Yeah, I guess it was pre-war…” 

Cait pressed her cold nose against Riz’s collarbone, eliciting a shiver. “Elizabeth West… Is West your last name or Nate’s?”

“Mine. His was too long. I could never wrap my tongue around it, unfortunately. It was real pretty when he said it though. He went with a hyphenated surname.”

“How did you meet him?”

Rizzo smiled, eyes distant and fond. “We met in school. We were the only two in our class with immigrant parents. He was built like a fucking bear, but he had a really friendly smile. An honest smile, you know? He was a really great guy. A  _ great _ man…” She looked sad for a moment, then she buried her face in Cait’s hair. 

“I used to get bullied sometimes--I was the only Latina in our school. He stuck up for me. He was one of few black kids, so we… understood each other. It was nice, to talk to someone who understands what it’s like to be told to go back to my country--I’ve lived in Boston my whole damn life!” 

Cait reached up to play with Rizzo’s short black hair. She pressed her mouth against the older woman’s ear, nibbling on her earlobe.

“I know it’s not really the same, since we weren’t really in any sort of romantic or sexual relationship, but I felt similarly to Tommy. Not many of my memories of the Combat Zone are positive, but Tommy was always good to me. He cared, when no one else did. He tried his best. Sometimes when I think of my parents, he’s kind of who takes my dad’s place. In a good way. He was like the father I never had.”

“You wanna go visit him? Maybe help out with rebuilding the joint?”

Cait looked into Rizzo’s eyes, the moon reflected in her warm brown irises. Cait traced her girlfriend’s cheekbone with her thumb, then slipped her hand back into the sleeping bag, touching her bare stomach. Not in a sexual way, just to keep warm.

“Tommy said I wasn’t allowed to come back…” 

“Since when has my Cait done what she’s told?” Rizzo said lightheartedly, peppering Cait’s freckled face with playful kisses. “You’re clean now, Cait. That’s why he wanted you to leave, right? What’s the harm in a visit?”

Cait sighed. She  _ was _ clean--her body knew that, but sometimes her head still nagged at her. It felt comfortable to hold a syringe, familiar. She didn’t like to be around Rizzo on the bad days, and she felt guilty for not letting her in. Hancock understood somewhat, and he stayed awake with her, keeping a watchful eye and rubbing her back, between her shoulderblades the way she liked it. It helped a lot more than he knew.

Cait rested her head on Rizzo’s shoulder, letting her eyelids fall shut. “Okay, love. Let’s visit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Rizzo's Spanish name is Isabel Eulalia Oeste, but it was Anglicized to Elizabeth West when her parents came to the US from Venezuela. Riz's Spanish is pretty limited, even though her parents spoke it a lot around the house. Nate's family is from Nigeria btw  
> I'll probably write a chapter about how Nate came up with such a bizarre nickname for her sometime soon.
> 
> [Buy me a coffee!](http://ko-fi.com/I3I59IAV)


	5. Bloodied Knuckles and Soda Shops (Nate/Rizzo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate tends to Rizzo's wounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nate and Rizzo back in high school, how she got her name, and a bit of juvenile flirting. Nate/Rizzo  
> Warnings: blood, injuries

“Ow, dammit!” Liz shouted as Nate held a tissue up to her bloody nose. Tears stung at her eyes. 

Nate swatted her shoulder, his brow wrinkled. “Stop squirming! You’ll make it worse.”

Liz frowned, growling as she felt her lip split open again, blood running down her chin. She wiped it away with her sleeve before realizing she was wearing the new cardigan her grandma had sent all the way from San Joaquín. “Christ, Mami’s gonna  _ kill _ me.”

“Not if she doesn’t kill me first. Your nose is definitely broken.” Nate flinched when she whined in pain as he quickly set her nose back in place--without warning her.

“My parents adore you, what are you talking about?” She gritted her teeth, bringing up her raw-knuckled hands to touch her face. She couldn’t feel her cheekbones, which she didn’t think was good. 

Nate grabbed the bandages next, and made her put her hands flat on the counter as he measured and cut them accordingly. Liz watched him stick his tongue out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. God, if only her entire face didn’t feel like a gaping wound right now she’d make the shit out of him. 

He sprayed her hands with antiseptic, and Liz felt hot tears pour from her eyes, snot burning her lip. Nate wiped some away with his thumb, before pressing his thick lips to her cheekbone, light as a feather. When her bloody knuckles were less likely to be infected, Nate put his hand gently on her thigh and kissed her softly on her lips. She smiled against the pain, grateful he didn’t push harder. 

“At least tell me you kicked her ass twice as hard?” 

“I killed it out there, two on one and I still sent them home pounded.”

Nate smiled wistfully at her, shaking his head. He ran his hand through her hair, one of the few parts of her that wasn’t currently bruised and battered. 

“I’m guessing no backseat bingo for tonight, huh?” he said in disappointment.

Liz smiled as he got up from his stool to grab a couple muffins from the breadbox. He slid one across the counter to her with a “think fast”, and she began to peel the paper off of it as he bit into the top of his.

“Probably not. I don’t think I’ll be allowed to leave the house for the next century at this rate. And if Papi doesn’t take my keys away I’ll be surprised.” She nibbled at the crumbly side of her carrot muffin.

“Erizzobif, you a’ suff a wet rah.”

“What the fuck did you just say to me?”

Nate swallowed his muffin, slamming his fist into his chest as he choked a bit. “Ahem. Elizabeth, you are such a wet rag.”

“Erizzobif, huh?” she said, grinning.

“Hey, don’t judge--'Rizzo'! New nickname?” His eyes were bright when he suggested it; he’d been trying to give her a proper nickname since they met but ‘Liz’ was the only one that’d ever stuck.

Liz chuckled as she swung her legs back and forth, pecking him on the nose. “Yeah, sure. Like  _ that’s _ ever gonna catch on.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a fic mix to accompany the entire collection, and it'd mean a lot if you listened to it!! thanks!  
> Listen to it here: http://8tracks.com/eroticnarwhal/open


	6. Doing Business (Hancock/Mac)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fahrenheit's sick, so MacCready's hired as the temporary replacement bodyguard for the mayor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some pure Hancock/MacCready fic cuz there isn't enough of it out there! Set a month before Rizzo rolls into town.
> 
> Warnings: vulgar language, drug use, violence, murder, pre- and post- sex scenes (but no actual smut)

Hancock was standing by the window smoking a post-Med-X cigarette when RJ MacCready let himself in. Hancock had seen the man around town before but didn’t know him well enough to know for sure he wasn’t there to assassinate him. And with Fahrenheit out of commission, too…

“MacCready. What can the good mayor do for you today?” The Med-X made him feel numb and sleepy and giddy all at the same time. Usually Hancock avoided injections, but he really didn’t feel like thinking rationally for a while.

The merc flicked the brim of his cap up to show off those baby blues of his. Hancock let his hand fall away from the pistol holstered at his hip. MacCready didn’t seem the type to look a mark in their eyes before he offed them. What with the sniper rifle and everything.

“Whitey told me to come talk to you if I was looking for work.” MacCready leaned against the wall opposite the mayor, even as Hancock settled onto a couch and motioned for the merc to join him. Hancock blew a smoke ring at him, watching the human watch him.

“You want a fix?” Hancock motioned to the table covered in chems in front of him. He plucked up the empty Med-X syringe and threw it on the floor, crushing it under the heel of his boot so it couldn’t be used again.

Finally, MacCready moved to sit across from the ghoul, picking up a pack of smokes and lighting up. Hancock couldn’t help but notice how his bony knees stuck up all crooked. Damn, but the kid had some long legs…

“What kind’ve work you looking for? Bounties, clearing jobs, burglary? Always looking for humans willing to rob McDonough.” There was a bit of a bite to the way he said his brother’s name but Hancock ignored it. Best to deal with demons when he wasn’t doing business.

Instead of responding to the question, MacCready asked, “Where’s Fahrenheit?”

Hancock would’ve cocked an eyebrow if he had one. “She’s on a job for me. Top secret.” Not true. She was really in the other room sleeping off the effects of the flu that was going around. She’d puked her guts up all over the floor when she tried to put her armour on that morning. Hancock wasn’t willing to push one of his closest friends to her death. He could go a couple days without a bodyguard.

“Well, you could use a hired gun at your side then, huh?” MacCready flashed him a smile.

And even though it was an expense that was completely unnecessary, Hancock looked at the skinny man across from him--with his blue eyes and big nose and crooked teeth biting into the butt of his cigarette like something out of a spank mag--and said: “Sure, kid. Let’s see what you got.”

 

The first day with MacCready started right after that. Hancock gave the young man a cold beer and he pressed it to his sweaty forehead. His face was all red from the heat. He’d shed his scarf and sweater but put his raggedy duster back on over his sweat-stained tank top. MacCready put his hat on the table. Brown hair, Hancock noticed, soft-looking.

When he finished his first cigarette he started another, dragging this one down faster than the last. He held the cig like one would hold a cigar, with two fingers and a thumb. A manly-looking way to hold a cigarette. 

Hancock watched lazy white smoke escape the man’s mouth and drift up towards the ceiling. When the mayor stood MacCready did the same (after popping the cap off his beer on the edge of the table and pocketing it). The merc gulped down the drink then left the empty bottle on the railing as the duo climbed down the stairs. Hancock felt the pins-and-needles you get when your leg falls asleep, only it was his whole body.

“Where’re we headed?” MacCready asked.

“Third Rail. Got some business with Charlie.”

MacCready nodded absently. He walked behind Hancock a couple feet, his rifle in his hands and eyes scanning the street for threats. Internally, Hancock complimented the guy. As relaxed and inexperienced as he seemed, the kid took the job seriously. No wonder people kept recommending him--and Hancock hadn’t even seen what he could really do yet. 

(He told himself he wasn’t so captivated with the kid because he was so dang pretty. Himself told He that was some grade-a brahmin shit and He knew it. Hancock remained neutral on the topic.)

Hancock greeted Ham as he passed, slipping a bag of caps into his hands. God knows Charlie’s cheap ass wasn’t going to remember to pay the bouncer. MacCready followed him closely as he sauntered down the stairs, Magnolia’s backing track just starting up.

“Just in time,” Hancock said lowly. “Mags is the best damn thing that’s happened to Goodneighbor in a long time.”

“Other than you,” MacCready said, not looking at the mayor when he said it.

“Gee, kid. Buttering me up? Might earn yourself a bonus if you keep that up.”

MacCready laughed, head thrown back a bit, showing off his skinny pale throat and adam’s apple. “Noted, boss.”

Hancock slipped onto a stool at the bar in front of Charlie as Magnolia started singing. MacCready sat beside him. “Charlie, good to see you.” He smiled, all teeth. “Whiskey on the rocks. And for my friend…”

“Just a beer. Whatever’s good.”

Charlie slid a glass bottle across the counter and started pouring Hancock’s drink. After the mayor took the first burning sip of his whiskey, Charlie hovered closer. “Here for business, Mr. Mayor?” His voice was as low as his emitters would allow, metallic twang making Hancock’s numb head soar.

“Yeah, got some vermin taking residence in the warehouses, you know what I mean? Need that cleared out ASAP. Hire someone drunk and dangerous-looking, you read me?”

Charlie would’ve nodded if he could. One of his eyes twitched instead, the fluid, octopus-like movements of his body other-worldly to the buzzed ghoul. “Loud and clear, Mr. Mayor.”

Hancock nodded, leaning back in his seat and twisting his body on the stool so he could ogle at Magnolia’s long creamy pale legs. She caught his eye and sent him one of those iconic sultry smiles of hers. If the world could still make women like that, maybe it wasn’t as bad as everyone thought.

MacCready stiffened behind him, his knee brushing against Hancock’s tailbone. Following the younger man’s gaze, he saw a small group of Gunners enter the bar. With the skull bandanas and bodies draped with guns, they looked like some sort of dark angels come to send Hancock back to whatever Hell he’d crawled out of.

The Gunners spotted the pair of men, and one of them seemed to recognize MacCready, as her eyes brightened and twinkled. Not pleasantly. If stares could kill then MacCready may as well have keeled over when she walked in.

The woman made her way over to the pair, her beefy frame menacing in the low lighting, bald head glistening with sweat. Hancock prepped himself for a firefight, aware of where his knife was strapped to his belt, and where his pistol was ready to be drawn. His fingers drew shapes onto the cool steel, itching.

“ _ Robert MacCready.  _ Never thought I’d see your ugly mug again. Not after you deserted.” The broad must’ve been blind if she thought MacCready was ugly. Maybe he was a bit  _ unconventionally _ handsome, with his face all sharp edges and scruff, but looking at him you couldn’t help but imagine what his stubble would feel like against your pelvic bone, what that big honker of his would feel like tracing the vein in your dick. 

Or maybe that was just Hancock.

“Didn’t desert. My contract ran out, I didn’t renew it. I’m a free man, Margie.” His brow creased as he looked behind her to where her group was watching. 

“Bullshit! Winlock and Barnes have it out for you. You should take your lanky ass back to the Capital Wastes where you belong!” She shoved a finger against his chest, and MacCready winced. Margie was freakishly strong, apparently.

Hancock decided this was the point he should step in. “Look, can you two cool it for a sec? Unless you want to start a war between the Gunners and Goodneighbor, the good mayor suggests you sit your dumb ass down and think for a second. Begin a losing war for a guy you don’t even like?” She flushed angrily, looking ready to start throwing punches. Hancock sighed, shaking his head. “Alright, killer, come over here and we can talk it out. All civil-like.”

He reached a hand out for her, inviting. His other hand gripped the knife behind his back. Looking him in the eye, Margie moved closer to him. Before she could get very far, however, Hancock flipped the knife out of its sheath, sliding it smoothly between her ribs. She coughed up blood, her muscles spasming and eyes bulging. Her partners behind her reached for their weapons, but Ham was behind them, already pushing them out.

“And next time you Gunners want to go around fucking with my people, maybe  _ think _ about it first, huh?” he shouted against the protesting from the two. Huffing, the mayor pushed the corpse off his blade and wiped it clean with a handkerchief. 

MacCready was staring, wide-eyed. Licking his lips, he eyed Margie’s dead body then leaned into Hancock’s space to whisper, now grinning cheekily, “Thought I was supposed to be  _ your  _ bodyguard.”

Hancock leaned in right back, tasting MacCready’s smoky breath. “You can forget about that bonus, kid.”

The merc was staring at his mouth, pupils dilated until the blue was a thin ice water circle around endless black. A hand was on Hancock’s thigh, trailing upwards, then back down before he touched any of the ghoul’s personal bits.

“I think I’ll manage to get a different kind of bonus, if you’re feeling me?” With a wink, the kid leaned away again, leaving the empty bottle on the table. “You done here?”

Nodding dumbly, Hancock let the merc lead him back to the Old State House.

 

The next morning Hancock woke up sore and alone, head fuzzy and fingers itching for a fix. Sitting up, he wasn’t too surprised to see he was bare-ass naked. MacCready. Where was the kid? If he was remembering correctly, they’d fallen asleep together just like they’d fallen in bed together. 

Pulling on some pants, Hancock poked his head out of his office door, only to see MacCready standing at attention, face red. 

“Hey, Mac,” Hancock said. “What’re you doing out here? Not too eager to spoon a ghoul, huh?”

MacCready’s hair was all messy beneath his hat, a hickey visible on the side of his neck. “Oh. No, that’s okay. I mean--one night stands are a bit awkward for me, y’know? Especially since you’re hiring me and… I dunno, it’s just not very professional? I guess?” His voice was climbing up with every word until he was practically singing like a soprano. “I’m not a whore. I don’t have sex with my employers. Ever.”

“What makes me so special then?” Hancock crossed his arms across his chest, very aware of how MacCready’s glanced every so often at the low hang of his trousers. 

“Fishing for compliments? Not gonna inflate your ego any more, Mayor.”

Hancock cracked a smile, feeling his eyes soften. “I get it, brother. You don’t need to worry about it. I can be professional, believe it or not. You want to cut the shit, just give me the say-so. No more flirting.”

MacCready looked at him for a long time, fidgeting with the collar of his jacket. Bashfully, he said, “Well… I never said I wanted to stop  _ flirting _ . Just, y’know, be patient.” He brushed Hancock’s hand with his knuckles, skin soft against the ghoul’s rigid flesh. 

Sweeping his lips against the taller man’s jaw, Hancock mumbled, “As a saint.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Buy me a coffee!](http://ko-fi.com/I3I59IAV)


	7. Aro in the Heart (Deacon & Rizzo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some introspective Deacon and an awkward conversation with Rizzo. Feat. aro genderfluid Deacon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: LOTS OF SPOILERS FOR DEACON'S BACKSTORY (and a lot of headcanons I have about him), use of a misogynistic slur  
> Deacon & Rizzo, Deacon & Barbara

_ (Deacon remembered separate twins beds and her dark hair splayed out on the pillow. He saw her on the couch, wrapped in a blanket and book in her small hands. White smile. Selling his wedding ring in Goodneighbor. Pinkerton’s steady surgeon’s hands changing his face for the first time. Crinkly eyes. ‘I love you’s and the following ‘no romo’s and childish giggles. Her favourite colour had been purple.) _

Barbara had said something to Deacon once a long time ago--about the same eyes in different people. Something about that stuck with him; even when his eyes went from blue to brown to grey to hazel, he made a point to try and look in the mirror without wanting to vomit. There was nothing about him from before he was Deacon, or John D, or Victoria Watts, but he told himself his soul was still the same. Even if he didn’t believe in souls, Barbara did and that was good enough.

Rizzo’s eyes were wrinkled the same way Barbara's had been, even though Barbara had once had black eyes and Rizzo’s were a rich grey-brown. And her smile, though more cat-like, still made her eyes shimmer like lake water under moonlight. And the way she touched people, with fleeting embraces and gentle fingertips tracing open palms--

It had been a long time since Deacon had anyone he could consider his best friend. It was hard enough finding someone he trusted enough to let in, even harder explaining his fluid gender and aromanticism. People just didn’t get it. But on the days he was a woman, Rizzo didn’t hesitate to switch the pronouns she was using, and correct anyone who messed up. Deacon didn’t let on how much he appreciated it, but he felt like she already knew.

Deacon had freckles back when he was married to Barbara, and pale eyelashes. He wasn’t sure why he thought about that, watching as Rizzo walked towards him. His hands were hardened by dirt, the smell of earth familiar. He wiped his hands on his jeans, aware of the sweat making the pits of his white t-shirt see-through. 

Overall, Deacon enjoyed his stays at Sanctuary, liked the dogs (even though he’d always been more of a cat person), the river, the marketplace. He was fascinated with Mama Murphy’s stories--he knew a fellow liar when he met one--and the sound of Cait or Hancock or MacCready arguing with the unlucky Victim of the Day. He liked remembering his life back when it was simple farming and sunshine and the taste of brahmin-mutfruit-tato stew.

Rizzo stopped in front of him, her green Minuteman-issue shirt covered in her leather chameleon armour (Deacon was  _ so  _ jealous).

“Hello there, stranger,” he said in a light voice. “Been awhile since we’ve seen you in these parts.”

She chortled, apparently in a jovial mood, shoulders shaking. “Preston’s riding me pretty hard lately--”

“I’m sure he is, General.” He flashed a licentious smile, but Rizzo ignored him with an eye roll.

“ _ Anyway,  _ I was going to head over to HQ. Wanna tag along?”

Deacon perked up, glad at the opportunity to get the hell out of Dodge. Because while he loved Sanctuary Hills, if he had to listen to Danse’s bitching one more time he was going to implode. Plus, he was eager to see some action that wasn’t Marcy Long trying to pick a fight with her poor husband.

“Alright, pal, let’s go!” He stomped past her determinedly, then paused. “Just let me wash my hands first.”

\--

On the road, Rizzo kept her dominant hand poised over Deliverer, which was holstered to her thigh. On her other leg she had a combat knife for emergencies, and strapped to her back was a mean-looking sniper rifle she fondly called Dark Mark. Deacon admired her ability to come up with names for her guns. (She’d given Hancock a gooifying shotgun named Betty Goop, and her railgun stuffed into the bottom of her satchel was Aveline.)

Deacon noticed the way she kept fiddling nervously with her hands, chewing the hell out of her lips and glancing at him through the corner of her eye. He wasn’t sure if it was stepping over some invisible line they had to bring it up. So he just stayed quiet to stay safe.

She stopped, and almost clipped her shoulder in surprise. Rizzo opened her mouth--there was purple lipstick on her teeth--then closed it.

“You’ve been working on your fish impression, I see,” Deacon said dryly. This, at least, got a laugh from her. “What’s up, though? Seriously.”

Her pupils were dilated and the way she rubbed her palms against her pants told him that her palms were sweating. He quirked an eyebrow.

“I just… I want to tell you that I appreciate you. I mean… Deacon, you’re my best friend, you know that?”

“Kinda sounds like you’re breaking up with me, Riz.”

“No! No, the opposite. You know the whole polyamorous thing I have going on?” Deacon had an increasingly bad feeling about this conversation… “Well, Mac brought up the fact that we’re always, y’know, flirting. And he said it was weird that I haven’t made a move. So, this is it. My, uh, move.”

He just stared at her for what felt like a long time.  _ Godammit, this is the last thing I wanted to happen to this partnership thing. _

“Please, say something. You’re killing me here.”

“Rizzo. Charmer. I’m sorry, but I just don’t feel romantic attraction. So I don’t think there’s any way that would work out. You’re one of the strongest, most dedicated people I know. If I wasn’t aro, you’d be at the top of my kiss list. But, yeah…” 

Her face went all red. “Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you were--because of Barbara, I just thought--”

“We were queer platonic. Got married because we loved each other, a lot. But it was never a dating thing.” He reached over and curled his fingers around her bare forearm, skin on skin. “If you wanted, I’d be willing to give that a try: being queer platonic partners.”

She was quiet for a moment, obviously not used to rejection. She scuffed the toe of her boot in the gravel, kicking up a little cloud of dust. Riz then looked at him, a couple inches taller than he was, and traced her hand down his arm before finally interlocking their fingers.

“That’s. Not really what I thought would happen today, but. I don’t know. This is new for me and you’ll have to talk me through it, but yeah. Yeah, okay. Queer platonic.”

Deacon grinned, his heart fluttering like a damn fool’s. “Good to hear. I love you, you know that? You’re the best partner I’ve ever had.”

“I’m the  _ only _ partner you’ve ever had.”

“Not true! Once upon a time I paired up with another clueless vault dweller with a big destiny--or whatever you want to call it. But that’s a story for another day.”

Rizzo started walking again, dropping his hand. He trailed behind her for awhile before something popped into his head.

“Oh, and before I forget to mention it, I’m not opposed to a little ‘ _ horizontal tango _ ’, if you catch my meaning. Hot-blooded bisexual here.”

Deacon chuckled at how pink Riz got.

_ (He saw black winged eyeliner sharper than a knife. Her broad shoulders silhouetted in the dim light of the moon. Callused fingertips and warm palms. The way she looked at the people she cared about--the wrinkles stretching like pillars carrying everyone’s weight. Wedding rings catching the streams of sunlight. Her hand on Tommy Whispers’s pistol, always so caring and grateful. The way even Carrington defrosted under the warmth of her charmspeak. Her soft puffs of breath as they waited in the shadows for a mark to show themselves. A blue-suited figure staring out at the horizon, looking so lost. Her purple lips curling into a sharp grin.) _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone wanna talk about how Deacon is 100% Victoria Watts from FO3?? jk but I just saw that theory a little while ago and I can't stop thinking about it.
> 
> [Buy me a coffee!](http://ko-fi.com/I3I59IAV)


	8. All Tied Up (Nick/Rizzo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick has this thing... a secret thing...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: non-sexual bondage/BDSM  
> Nick/Rizzo, implied Nick/Hancock

Nick didn't have many secrets--who had time to keep track of them all? Other than a few things old Nick probably wouldn't appreciate his synth counterpart sharing, he was an open book. Well, maybe not a book. A holodisc maybe. Half written in binary code and half in film noir slang. But still, open. Legible on a good day.

Well, other than the whole 'I like to be tied up and talked down to every so often' thing. That was a secret and a half. He didn't bring it up with Rizzo when they got together because the idea of explaining it to her gave him a headache. He didn't think there was a way he could open up about it to Hancock without the ghoul sexualizing it. Almost everyone else was out of the question--not that he didn't trust them, it was just... yeah, he didn't trust them. 

This wasn't something he could just ask any old cat to do. This was... new territory.

He made do with handcuffing himself when he knew no one would barge in on him, the key easily accessible. It was half of the fun, and it was soothing. Nick didn’t have to think during these sessions; he just sat and rested. The wires and gears that made up everything he was were allowed some leeway, a moment to cool down. Images of a life that isn’t his own don’t invade this time--this is something that is wholly unique to synth Nick. Old Nick didn’t need to stop thinking, he needed to think harder. Old Nick slept, and synth Nick was left with his memories and processors in the deadness of night.

It felt safe, something he normally didn’t get to feel (being a synth in post-apocalyptia and all). 

\--

Rizzo slipped out of MacCready’s iron sleep grip, shimmying over Hancock and hushing Curie as she began to stir on the side of the bed that was against the wall. Sleepily, Curie mumbled something about needing to make more stimpacks before she smooshed her face against MacCready’s back--out like a light. 

Padding with her bare toes against the cold linoleum floor, Rizzo made sure she didn’t wake up the other bedroom full of her partners. She could see through the doorway Preston’s larger frame draped with Piper and Cait on the small bed, his arms around the two of them. She smiled slightly and continued on into the living room. Danse was on the couch, still a hulking figure even out of his power armour. Unfortunately there was hardly ever enough room in the beds for him to fit but he said he didn’t mind--he wasn’t much of a cuddler.

When Rizzo didn’t see her favourite detective she felt her mouth turn down. While not often, sometimes Rizzo couldn’t sleep, and talking to Nick always made her feel better. It reminded her a bit of Nate and when he would stay up with her on the nights she needed to cram for a big exam. 

She pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge (the old thing wasn’t hooked up to any power but it was still a convenient place to store food and drinks). After taking a couple sips with her hip pressed against the counter, Rizzo shuffled over to the old steamer trunk in the corner and pulled on a pair of wool socks, then went about lacing up her soft leather boots. 

Pulling her housecoat tighter around her, Rizzo stepped out the front door, closing it softly behind her. 

Hovering down the street was Codsworth, and he let out a jolly, “Hello, mum!”

“Codsworth, have you seen Nick anywhere?” she asked, scanning the crumbled road for him.

“Oh, yes. Mr Valentine has been in the abandoned house near the bridge for the past thirty minutes.”

That was weird. That house was one of the abandoned buildings. It was supposed to be torn down to make another bunkhouse for the caravans and provisioners. The front door had been boarded up, meaning to get inside Nick either crawled in through a window or took a crowbar to the wood panels blocking the entrance.

“Thank you, Codsworth. See you later?”

“Yes, Miss West.” Codsworth puttered away, humming cheerfully to himself. 

Waving to one of the night guards she passed, Rizzo examined the front doorway to realize, yes, Nick  _ had _ torn down the boards. From outside Rizzo couldn’t hear the whirring of his processors, couldn’t hear anything. Quietly, she stepped inside amongst the rubble. 

There! A light! In the bedroom, the flickering of a flame painted the floor orange, and Riz followed it eagerly. She just wanted to make sure her boyfriend was okay.

What she saw in the bedroom was not what she’d expected. Nick’s eyes were closed, and if it weren’t for the fact that Rizzo knew he couldn’t she would have thought he was asleep. On the floor with his trench coat thrown over the arm of a dusty old chair, Nick rested his skull against the wall, fedora crumpling. And, most notably, his hands were handcuffed behind his back around an exposed pipe. 

“What--”

Nick’s eyes flew open, bright near-eerie yellow in the low lighting of the room. Nervously, he tried to hide his arms, but it was obvious what was going on behind him. She’d seen the shape of a handcuffs, the flash of silver. 

“Um. Doll, I really wish I had an explanation for this but--ah, no I don’t. Have an explanation, that is.”

The silence fell heavy between the two of them, like an itchy old blanket. Riz could practically see Nick’s skin crawl in the way he squirmed as her eyes consumed in what was in front of her.

Accidently, Nick’s leg twitched and his foot kicked the lantern, knocking it over. He made to reach it but then remembered his arm situation, and Rizzo grabbed it instead, stamping out the sliver of flame that had caught on the old rug. Kneeling in front of him now, Rizzo could clearly see the handcuffs, and she touched them. Nick flinched.

“Nick, why are you doing this alone without letting anyone know where you are?”

He blinked at her. “Not really something you’d like to see the local private eye getting up to, is it? Makes me look a bit like a deviant. Not really the paint I’d like to splatter on my fence.”

“It’s a sexual thing?” she asked, no judgement in her voice.

“No, no. I guess… it’s a  _ sensual _ thing? I don’t really have all the words for it, but I know I like to be restrained. It’s relaxing. And I like to be, um, insulted…”

She blinked at him. “Why?”

He tried for a teasing grin, but his voice was scratchy when he replied: “No idea.” He shook his head. “Makes me feel grounded, maybe? My head gets a bit too big for my body sometimes; this helps shrink it back down a smidge.”

“Do you want me to help? I don’t mind. I kinda… well, I’ve always wanted to try BDSM out. This isn’t sexual, like you said, but I’m fine with that. I just want to make you feel good.”

He looked at her in disbelief. “I’m trying real hard not to jostle my wrists, doll. Could you come over here and unlock me so I can kiss those pretty lips of yours?”

Flushing, Rizzo picked up the key off the floor (within Nick’s reach, but far enough away he’d have to work for it) and unlocked him. He rubbed at his wrists, then linked them behind her neck and pecked her on the mouth. 

“How do you want to do this?” he asked. “Can start with a bit of playful name-calling, eventually work our way up to manhandling and tying me to weird places?” His tone was teasing, bordering on flirtatious.

Rizzo touched his nose with hers, smiling. She didn’t know what she was getting herself into, but she was excited nonetheless. 

“Nicky, we can do whatever you want.”

Nick’s glowing eyes were hooded.

“But first, I need to go to bed. I left my cuddle buddies back there and if I’m gone long MacCready’s going to start snoring and I’m never going to be able to go to sleep.”

Chuckling, he took her hand in his after fixing his hat and slipping his jacket on, popping the collar. 

“Well, my dear, let’s get you some sleep.”

Rizzo let the old synth lead her out of the bedroom and beamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Buy me a coffee!](http://ko-fi.com/I3I59IAV)


	9. Snoring (Piper/Rizzo/Mac)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rizzo has misophonia and is going through a hard time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Misophonia: a disorder in which negative emotions, thoughts, and physical reactions are triggered by specific sounds
> 
> Just a forewarning: Misophonia is explained as vividly as I could manage here. I have it, and it is super difficult to describe to people who don't. This is a pretty personal chapter for that reason, so know everything Rizzo deals with here is stuff I've also gone through. Her case is based directly off of me.
> 
> If you think you have misophonia, I recommend talking to your therapist about taking anxiety meds, because I find the two are heavily linked for me. Ever since I started taking my medication my misophonia has been way better and way more manageable!
> 
> Rizzo/MacCready, Rizzo/Piper

MacCready snored. This wouldn’t have been a problem if Rizzo were  _ normal,  _ but of course she was cursed with misophonia. She tried to explain it, but it always came off like it was a mild annoyance. 

It wasn’t just annoying.

When sounds drilled into her head, it felt like her world was being torn apart. Like every nerve in her body was set aflame. Every emotion, every muscle, became active. She was angry and sad and horny and sick to her stomach. Her toes curled, fingers dug into her palms. Most of the time her eyes would prick with tears and she’d break out into a cold sweat. The heat between her legs would pulse, another level of frustration on top of everything else.

None of this was visible to others. They couldn’t see the storm inside her head, the way her mind was betraying her (or so it felt). She worried that she was the problem--no, she  _ knew _ it was her. It wasn’t MacCready’s fault. She knew that deep down it wasn’t  _ anyone’s  _ fault, but on the surface she just struggled to keep her skin from jumping off her bones.

When her dark circles became dark enough to be mistaken for bruises, Piper was the one to pull her to the side.

“Blue, what’s going on? You look like you haven’t slept in years!” 

Rizzo scowled, jaw tight. Off in the distance someone was hammering a shingle back into place, incessantly.

_ Bang! Bang! Bang! _

At every strike Rizzo winced, hyper-aware of the sounds around her.

“--you okay?”

“What?”

“Are. You. Okay?” Piper enunciated. Her hands came up to grasp her shoulders, the touch a welcome distraction. 

And, because Piper was warm and willing, Rizzo explained.

Piper looked sad, her soulful eyes looking off in the distance. 

“You could ask him to sleep in another room. I mean, we all gotta split up anyway. Swap MacCready out for Preston. He’d understand.”

“But it’s not his fault! Why should he be punished--not that it’s a punishment to sleep with you, Pipes--because I’m all fucked up?” MacCready had a difficult time sleeping if Rizzo wasn’t pressed against him. He needed her smell, he’d explained, so he knew she wasn’t in danger.

Piper’s jaw set, determined as ever. “Well, you certainly can’t keep on like  _ this. _ Maybe you should go out, take someone other than MacCready with you, and come back when your anxiety drops.”

“I don’t--maybe.” Rizzo deflated. “You’re probably right. The Railroad probably has some jobs that need doing. I’ll leave tomorrow.” 

\--

Coming back to Sanctuary always felt like letting out a breath she’d been holding for too long. The mutfruit trees all lined up along the river, sounds of people talking and laughing, the smell of oil and metal working in tandem--it all was part of her home. After spending such a long time away, a month this time, Rizzo was looking forward to kicking her feet up and offloading all the junk she’d been hoarding.

“Riz!” someone shouted. She looked up and saw MacCready waving excitedly from just outside the shared house. Beside him emerged Piper, who leaned her him against the doorway. She raised her own hand in greeting.

Rizzo dropped her bags, taking off in a light jog. MacCready met her on the front lawn, her hands seeking out his face and his her hips. Lips met, urgently, and every part of her felt like a calm crystalline pool of water.

Piper came over, too. She blushed prettily at the soft kiss Rizzo left on her cheek. “Merry Christmas, Blue,” she said.

“Ah, shit. It’s Christmas? I forgot!”

“Don’t worry about it,” MacCready said. “We have a surprise for you.”

The two led Rizzo into the house, into the master bedroom. 

“If we’d known you would be back today we would’ve wrapped it or something, but…” MacCready shrugged, dug in the dresser, and pulled out a little plastic container.

The label read:  _ 200 foam earplugs. _

Rizzo didn’t realize she was crying until Piper wiped the tears away. “I told MacCready about your problem, and he suggested we go out and look for a solution. We found a pharmacy, barely looted. And inside… We hope you like them.”

“Thank you. God, thank you so much!” She threw one arm over MacCready’s shoulder, the other around Piper’s neck. 

“Riz, I’m sorry. I had no idea it was so serious. I thought… I dunno, I thought maybe it was something you’d get used to.” He smiled at her. “I’m glad you like it. Maybe we can both finally get some sleep.”

Rizzo kissed him again, her heart weightless in her chest. “Yeah. Now, I gotta grab my shit off the sidewalk before Deacon leaves it for the dogs to dig in.”

As she ran off to collect her things, MacCready felt Piper touch his arm. 

“Mac, you’re lucky you got a girl like me in your life. The two of you are hopeless.”

He laughed light-heartedly. “In only the best way, I think.”

“Hm. Keep telling yourself that, stud.” She winked once and sauntered off, leaving MacCready alone in the bedroom.

He watched her from the window, his gaze sliding over to Rizzo walking back up the crumbling sidewalk, and felt himself sigh in contentment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh. The ending is a bit abrupt. Might go back and extend it a bit later.
> 
> [Buy me a coffee!](http://ko-fi.com/I3I59IAV)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Tell me what you think and if you'd like more and which pairing might pique your interest if you'd like. If you see any grammar or spelling mistakes, please point them out in the comments, that'd be a big help.
> 
> [Buy me a coffee!](http://ko-fi.com/I3I59IAV)


End file.
